


Green Captain, Red Daughter

by Nectere



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Bratva Oliver Queen, Bratva Supergirl, F/M, Red Son AU, Russian Mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2019-10-04 13:41:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17305625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nectere/pseuds/Nectere
Summary: When Anatoly helped him initiate into the Bratva, Oliver didn't expect to find someone who would bring him home.No one could expect Ekaterina Karlova, the secret weapon of the Solntsevskaya Bratva. A superpowered alien rescued and adopted by a Former KGB spy. While their partnership started out rocky, they quickly bonded. Once the two destroyed Kovar, she gave him a way home...and he brought the red daughter of Krypton with him.





	1. Prologue: Leaving

The man, covered in dirt, hair matted and scraggly, tore through the forest, up the rocks with the skill of someone who had done it before. As he climbed, he spotted the fishing boat, and picked up the pace, sliding down to meet an equally shabby looking blonde, eyeing a pile of wood on the beach.

"Is he dead?" She asked, with a smile that said she knew the answer.

"Да," Oliver replied, raising his bow. "But you know that."

"Конечно." She replied, in Russian. "But I would not take your vengeance from you." Taking a deep breath, the woman stood, ran a hand through her matted hair, and then beams of light flashed from her eyes to the wood in the distance and the wood caught flame, setting off the explosion.

She turned to him, smiling. "Now, let me get you home, Oliver Queen."

Oliver smiled, even as his eyes on the ship in the horizon. "No, Katyusha, together." He squeezes her hand.

The smile that crossed her face brightened further as the ship drew in. "Да, солнышко моё. Together."


	2. Chapter 1: Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Star City General and back to the Queen mansion, where Oliver has someone to introduce.

The fishing boat is cold and miserable, but better than many of the places he had been, and from the unbothered expression in Ekaterina’s eyes, he could tell she had seen worse as well. The Chinese sailors brought them water, and they drank slowly, as if they truly had been surviving hand to mouth on the island. Oliver, even now, could remember that early, crippling,  _ gnawing _ hunger. 

He looked over at the most unexpected part of his time in hell, and almost unconsciously, twined their fingers. She had been stranded and suffered as well, if differently, and in a different place. They understood each other. For over a year, they were all the other had. 

And  _ that _ was one thing that would not change.

* * *

Moira Queen had never expected the revelation that her son was alive, for one very brief moment, there was a stab of fear about Robert, before the ambassador confirmed he had died in the wreck. 

But now, now she was staring at her son, from behind a pane of glass. He looked broader somehow, more adult, grown somehow, for all that he had been a young man when he left. He stared out the window into the city, as she stared at him. She thought they both looked lost.

“Twenty percent of his body is covered in scar tissue.” Dr. Lamb was explaining, and Moira could hardly believe it. “Second degree burns on his back and arms, x-rays show at least twelve fractures that never properly healed.” 

Moira swallowed. What had happened to her beautiful boy? “Has he said anything about what happened?”

“No.” Dr. Lamb replied, shaking his head. “He’s barely said anything to us. He speaks to her, but we don’t have a translator on the floor.” He gestured with his chin to the other mystery Moira Queen dreaded.

“Who is she?” Moira questioned, looking at the woman at her son’s side in one of the plasticated hospital chairs. “Do you know anything?” Oliver had left with one blonde, and returned with a different one. 

“Her name is apparently Ekaterina.” Dr. Lamb admitted. “She’s Russian, and physically, not in much better shape than your son, as far as we can tell. She’s skittish, won’t let any of our doctors or nurses close enough to really examine her past visual. Separating them...did not go well. It was just easier to let them stay in the same room.”

Moira turned back to the window in the door. 

Dr Lamb sighed. “Moira, I’d like you to prepare yourself. The Oliver you lost, may not be the one they found.”

Moira took a deep breath, opened the door and slowly walked inside. “Oliver?”

* * *

Kara Zor-El had never minded hospitals. Her father had been a scientist, after all, and part of his work had been in hospitals; or what had passed for them on Krypton, where illnesses had been eradicated long ago. Kara, however, had been lost. Twenty-four years in the Phantom Zone, and then eleven more years in captivity, experimented on and tortured, until a turncoat KGB officer had blown apart the labs and left the doctor’s in pieces on the floor, had left the now Ekaterina Vasiliyevna with a pathological hatred of hospitals and doctors, even three years on from when she had left that place, only to be taken in by the Solntsevskaya Bratva. Now, she was in America, with Oliver, her American Kapiushon, and she didn’t know what to do. 

Should she reach out to Kal-El? Had he even searched for her? The approach of one of the doctors in the hallway drew her from her thoughts, and back into the reality of the hospital room.

While she had never planned to allow them to separate her from Oliver, the moment of panic when they had tried to place them in separate rooms had been far from faked. Facing the window, as they were, she relayed to him all of the things the doctor was telling his mother, in a whisper. 

Then came the real test, as Moira walked in. Ekaterina released Oliver’s hand as his mother said his name, feeling suddenly unmoored herself, forcing another breath slow and steady into her lungs.

* * *

”Mom.” Oliver said, turning slowly toward her. She approached him in slow, jagged steps.  _ Like prey _ , his mind offered, but he ignored it, trying to remember what expression he should have on his face.

“Oh, my beautiful boy,” She murmured, wrapping him in a hug, and that was stranger than almost anything. 

He felt Katya move to her feet behind him, trying to give him time and space, while at the same time, trying to stay close because of her own discomfort. He pulled away slowly. “Mom, I’d like you to meet Ekaterina Vasiliyevna Karlova.” He said, gently pulling her forward, fingers interlacing. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Queen.” Ekaterina said, her voice only slightly accented with Russian.

“It’s very nice to meet you as well, MIss Karlova.” Moira said, formally, noting shrewdly how the girl’s shoulders had tensed at the address, and how, almost unconsciously, while holding her son’s hands, she had shifted in such a way that had rough, primitive looking bracelets on their wrists touch together. “Is there any way that we can help you find your family? I’m sure they must be missing you as well.”

“I was able to call my father when we landed.” Ekaterina replied, blandly. “He was... _overwhelmed_...to hear from me.” 

“Katya is staying with me, Mom.” Oliver said, plainly. 

“Of course, darling.” Moira said, forcing her to keep her smile on her face, even at the dark look from her son.

* * *

The arrival back at the Queen Mansion was stilted. Oliver half felt as if he had dreamed the place, and was slightly in awe to see it again, especially with the strange addition of Walter Steele. Oliver had no idea how to respond to Walter. He dropped his case at the greeting, eyes trained on the man. He wasn't on the list, but why was he there?

He shook his hand, and then cleared his throat as Walter looked surprised that he didn’t know what to say. “Of course, Walter.” He gave a polite nod to his left, where Katya was standing. “This is Ekaterina Vasiliyevna Korlova.”

“Miss Korlova.” Walter said, holding a hand out to her, obviously having been warned by Moira that she was present. 

“Mr. Steele,” Ekaterina replied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Oliver was distracted by the appearance of one of his favorite people, and drew Ekaterina with him toward the housekeeper who had, at times, been more like a mother to him than his own. “It’s good to see you, Raisa.”

“Welcome home, Mr. Oliver.” Raisa said, smiling happily at him. 

“Raisa, this is my Katya.” Oliver said, slinging an arm over Ekaterina’s shoulders and bringing her forward. “Katya, this is Raisa.”

“Очень приятно!” Ekaterina burbled with a smile, her entire face lighting up for the first time since the hospital. “You must tell me all the stories of little Oliver.”

“No, Raisa, you really mustn’t.” Oliver said, in return. 

“It’s good to meet you, Miss Katya.” Raisa said , warming slightly but aware of the eyes of her employers on her. “Mr. Merlyn phoned, he wants to join you for dinner.”

“Wonderful!” Moira said, smiling, as a door closed upstairs. “Oliver, did you hear that?”

Oliver, however, was more focused on the door that closed, moving out to watch the stairs. “Hey, sis.” He said, with a secret smile on his face, as Thea bounded down the stairs to him. 

“I knew it! I knew you were alive.” Despite herself, Thea felt tears pricking as she hugged her long lost brother who was finally home. “I missed you so much.”

“You were with me the whole time.”

* * *

Oliver assured her, hugging her tightly.  Oliver stepped out of the bathroom, towel hung low around his hips. It was surreal to be back in this place, and he stared at the mirror, wondering at the differences. The face he saw in the mirror was not the same as the face he had when he left. 

“I prefer you like this, солнышко моё.” The voice came from behind him, and he started, turning to look. 

Somehow, he had missed her. Ekaterina lay across the arms of one of his chairs in one of his old button-downs, flipping through some novel he had on his shelves but had probably never touched. “How is it you can read my mind, Katyusha? Does the sunlight here offer you different powers?

“No mind reading, love, only an observation.” She wrinkled her nose. She gestured to the length of muscled chest and stubbled chin. “This suits you far better than the wild man of Lian Yu.” She put down her novel and moved over to him, slinging her arms around his neck. “A kiss, before I am exiled to the floor?”

“You’re not sleeping on the  _ floor. _ ” Oliver argued. 

“Papa will not be bringing my lamps for at least a day or so.” Ekaterina reminded him. “The hospital was...difficult. If I take the bed, I will likely fall off.”

“I’ll hold you.” Oliver said flatly. “I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.”

“I’d break you,  Капюшон.” Ekaterina said, shaking her head. “Sleep will not be easy tonight.”

“Hey,” Oliver said, tilting her head up to look at him. “None of this is easy. I’ll stay with you.”

Ekaterina bit her lip. She truly didn’t want to sleep on the floor, plush carpets or not. “Where’s my green bracelet, солнцe?”

“No, Katya.” Oliver said flatly. 

“Compromise, Oliver.” Ekaterina said, kissing the underside of his chin. “You know it’s not enough to hurt me, just enough to take my powers.”

“We don’t know what exposure could do in the long run.” Oliver argued. 

“We both know if it does cause any long-term effects, it’d already be done, and not by the bracelet.” Ekaterina reminded him. 

Oliver sighed. “In the box, under the herbs, with the other bracelets.” He ground out finally. “But you’re taking it off in the morning.”

“And we’ll discuss when the others get to go back on.” Ekaterina snapped back. “I am quickly becoming _sick_ of being Miss Karlova.”


	3. Chapter 2: Criticisms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An awkward dinner, a rough night, and a shoddy kidnapping.

After a brief nap, Oliver headed downstairs to ready for dinner, while Katya finished testing out everything the personal shopper had brought her. He was resigned to the fact that until Vasiliy Karlov could arrive in Starling City, he would be sharing his phone. He didn’t mind, but he would be glad when he no longer had to share, and they both had a supply of burners. It was strange to open his phone and see pictorial choices of clothes and makeup.

He wandered around the foyer, studying the changes and what stayed the same. He picked up the photo of him as a boy with his father, smiling and happy on the _Gambit_ , and despite himself the old memories assailed him. Luckily, they were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.

“What I tell you? Yachts suck.”

Oliver turned, smiling despite himself. “Tommy Merlyn.” He said, honestly pleased to see his best friend. He wrapped him in a hug, knowing this was one of the few people he would always trust. One person who had never stopped looking.

“I missed you, buddy.” Tommy admitted, the hug maybe a bit tighter than what would normally be considered manly.

“Olezhka, is this suitable for dinner?” Katya called, as she rounded the staircase, stopping to pause and blush as she spotted the two men. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” Oliver replied, releasing Tomy and crossing to the stairs, holding out a hand, and letting his eyes sweep over her fairly modest little black dress, heels, and red lipstick. “You look wonderful.”

Katya walked down the stairs, taking his hand at the base. “Good, I fear I didn’t look my best at the hospital. I wish to make a better impression.”

“Well, for now, come meet Tommy.” Oliver suggested, leading her over to his friend. “Tommy, this is Katya. Katya, this is my best friend, Tommy Merlyn.”

Katya gave Tommy a bright smile, holding out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Tommy. I’ve heard a lot of stories about you.”

“And I am absolutely amazed, that even stranded on a deserted island, Oliver can find the most beautiful women.” Tommy replied, kissing her hand.

Katya laughed, blushing. “Starling City must breed the most charming men!”

* * *

”Okay, what else did you miss?” Tommy asked at the dinner table. “Super bowl winners: Giants, Steelers, Saints, Packers, Giants again. A black president, that’s new. Oh, and Lost? They were all dead. I think.”

“What was it like there?” Thea asked suddenly and everyone went quiet, looking at the two castaways.

“Cold.” Oliver said simply, as Katya shivered, as if the word had caused the sensation.

“Tomorrow, you and me, we’re doing the city.” Tommy suggested. “You’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

“That sounds like a great idea.” Moira interjected.

Oliver paused, looking at Katya. “I’m not sure…”

“Go!” Katya encouraged. “I will probably be stuck in the embassy all day as it is. Papa’s to meet me there anyway.”

“Good, then I was hoping to swing by the office.” Oliver said, firmly.

“Well, there’s plenty of time for all that.” Walter remarked. “Queen Consolidated isn’t going anywhere.”

Raisa appeared then, tripping as she brought a bowl of pears to the table. “Oh, I am so sorry, Mr. Oliver.”

Oliver caught the bowl, waving off the apology in Russian.

“Dude, you speak Russian?” Tommy asked.

“He learned very quickly.” Katya said, sipping her wine. “Although his accent is very bad.”

“Я покажу тебе плохо, котёнок.” Oliver replied, raising a brow.

Kara smiled secretly, raising her glass to him.

“I had no idea you were so good with languages, Oliver.” Walter praised.

“I had no idea you wanted to sleep with my mother, Walter.”

The room went silent, before explanations started, and dinner ended only shortly after that.

* * *

The night was as rough as predicted, but not just for Katya. While keeping her wrapped tightly in his arms against his body helped prevent the worst of his nightmares, the vicious storm outside and the emotional toll of returning home made him relive the memory of how all of this started, the sinking of the _Queen’s Gambit_.

A jolt startled him, and in a minute he woke and found himself pinning Katya to the mattress, with a hand at her throat. He caught himself, moved his hand, and took a few deep breaths, and then realised she was begging, but it wasn’t in Russian.

“/Vokai...khap....sokao-/” She was pleading for the doctors in her dream to stop, thrashing against him as if he was the one keeping her captive. “/Zha...vokai. Zha! Zha vokai...sokao-/”

“Hey.” Oliver said softly, adjusting his hold to something more comforting, and running a hand through her hair. “It’s okay. You’re not there. You’re safe, Kara.” When she didn’t seem to settle, he cleared his throat, wanting desperately to remove the silver bracelet with the glowing green strand through it, casting an unearthly glow on her skin, but knowing if he did, things would get exponentially worse. Instead, he repeated the words in the language she was speaking. “/Nahn rrip w voi. Nahn rrip w voi. Nahn khahp ukep. Nahn rrip w voi, Kara./”

She woke with a gasp, breathing hard, and before she could apologize, he set to distracting her by combing his fingers through her hair, and humming under his breath, until she fell into a more peaceful sleep. The nightmares following him, however, meant he dare not sleep again.

* * *

Tommy was right. The Glades was dying. It hurt to see that, because Oliver knew that it was, in part, because of what his father had done. It was his responsibility to fix it, to undo the sins of the father, but before he could do that, he had to atone at least a little for his own.

The meeting with Laurel went...about as he expected. He had done a horrible thing. He would never be able to apologize enough, or wipe Sara’s blood from his hands, but he had to at least try. Honor demanded that much.

The van came out of nowhere, masked thugs rounding the corner a second later, and while he watched Tommy go down, and tried to stop the tranquilizer, all too soon he felt it taking effect. “Kara,” he managed, just before it went dark.

* * *

Oliver woke to the feel of a bag being ripped from his head, and someone attempting a scary voice saying. ‘Mr. Queen.” Whoever it was really needed to work on that. That and the mask made it almost childish and far from intimidating. Realistically, the stun gun he was showing off was barely a threat. Apparently it was amateur hour in Starling City. Anatoly would laugh his head off when he heard about this. He worked the zip tie around his wrists, counting his attackers. Tommy was unconscious on the floor, but he was breathing.

“Did your father survive that accident?”

Oliver didn’t respond, too busy calculating the situation...and maybe because, he was, as Vasiliy Karlov liked to say, ‘a stubborn little shit.’

The man in the red mask was obviously really new at this. After only a few seconds, he was bleeding frustration from behind that mask. Good interrogators gave their marks time to sweat, or no time to think. Given the tranquilizer, he should have taken the former. Sloppy job. “I ask the questions, you give the answers.” He said, breathing hard.

He then turned to his partner, and held out his hands, as if he had lost control of the interrogation. Forget amateur, this was ridiculous. Of course, then they held the prod to his chest, through the sweater, which really, they should have removed.

It hurt, but only really enough to piss him off.

“Did he make it to the island? Did he tell you anything?”

Really? One question at a time. This guy would have never survived any kind of real criminal enterprise. Whoever hired these people was an idiot.

After the second shock, Oliver was _done._ “Yes, he did.” Oliver said, looking down, and working the tie, before he saw a flash of red in the periphery of his vision and thought of a better idea.

“What did he tell you, Mr. Queen?” Even interrogating him, the man acted as if he, the victim, was someone to be respected.

“He told me my wife’s gonna kill you.” Oliver replied, hunched forward into the chair.

The man laughed. “You’re delusional.”

“You’re dead.” A clear, bell-like voice rang out in reply from above them.


	4. Chapter 3: Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Supergirl's first rescue and we and Quentin learn a little bit more about the island.

The ensuing fight was quick, effective, and bloodless. Kal was flashy and relied mostly on brute strength and his own powers, but Kara had been honed into a weapon. A weapon who could break the kidnappers’ necks in only a few heartbeats, save for the leader. 

“I don’t like to kill.” She told the kidnapper flatly, boot on his chest. “But I am not Superman.” She ripped the mask from his face, her own eyes glowing with light. “Who hired you?”

“Fuck you.” He spat. 

“Interesting name.” Kara replied, flicking him in the shoulder blade, and frowning again as he screamed. “The name.”

The kidnapper gasped, struggling for air, and as if in contrast to his own impatience, she waited, almost blandly, watching his face.

“I don’t know!” He said finally, gasping again. “It was a job through my fence.”

“Thieves should not play kidnappers without training.” Kara scolded. “All associates should understand their roles. I’m sorry you were failed.” She flicked his other shoulder, shattering it to match. “But you have to pay for that mistake. Give me the name of the fence, and I will make it as painless as possible.”

“Rockjaw, on Velox and Lean!” The kidnapper said, clearly terrified. 

“Thank you.” She took his chin in two fingers and twisted her wrist slightly, snapping his neck with ease, and then closing his eyes. 

Kara shook out her cape, and looked over to Tommy, who was starting to stir. In the same accentless voice she had been using, pitched slightly lower than her usual soprano, she helped him up. “Mr. Merlyn, I suggest you call an ambulance for you and your friend.”

“Who are you?” Tommy asked. 

Kara shrugged her shoulders, the red mask covering her eyes offering little in the way of information. “My cousin calls himself Superman. I haven't decided yet.”

* * *

”So that’s your story.” Quentin Lance said, looking down at the picture of a woman, with the Superman ‘S’ on her chest. “Superman’s cousin that no one’s ever heard of, flew in and single-handedly took out three armed kidnappers.”

“I...I mean who, who is she? Why would she do that?” Quentin asked, looking at the two boys. 

“I don’t know.” Oliver said. “Find her and you can ask.”

“What about you?” Quentin asked, holding up the picture. “You see the super...girl too?”

“Yeah.” Tommy admitted, holding a hand to his head. “I mean it’s a bit blurry, but she told me to call an ambulance. I asked who she was, and she said her cousin called himself Superman, but she hadn’t decided.”

“Detective, when you found us, I was zip-cuffed to a  _ chair _ and Tommy was  _ still _ out of it. Do you think we did it ourselves?” Oliver asked, secretly amused, as that really  _ had _ been his plan, before he saw Kara’s cape.

“Yeah, it’s funny isn’t it?” Quentin sneered. “One day back and already someone’s gunning for you. Aren’t you popular?”

Just then the door opened, and in rushed Katya, in an immaculate purple dress, spotting Oliver and making a beeline for him, speaking in Russian so quick that even he had trouble following. 

“I’m fine, Katya.” He reassured her, hands on her arms. “I’m all right,” She knew that, of course, but it was what the act needed. “Come sit.”

Moira spoke up finally. “Were you able to identify the men?”

“Scrubbed identities, untraceable weapons, these guys were pros.”

Oliver resisted the urge to snort. Anyone in the Bratva could have chewed those three up for dinner, and looked around for more. Professional thieves? Maybe. Kidnap and interrogation? Not hardly. 

“Yeah, they probably figured you’d pay a king’s ransom to get your boy back. Or a Queen’s ransom, as it were.” Quentin looked at Oliver and shook his head. “After all, a parent would do anything to keep their child safe.”

“Quentin?” Katya said suddenly, from beside Oliver. “You are Sara’s father?” She said it, as if she had just figured it out. 

Oliver elbowed Katya. “ Нет, она не хотела, чтобы он знал.” 

Katya glared back at him, opening her mouth to reply, but Quentin’s face had changed, and he interrupted. 

“Sara?” He repeated. “You knew Sara?”

Oliver put his head down, and Katya swallowed hard. “Yes.” She said slowly. Katya had a whole strange mix of feelings for Sara. She had helped Ivanov and his butchers torture her, create abominations, but she had been like a sister at the same time, slipping her extra food and keeping the men who were not disgusted by Katya’s alien-ness far away. “She...she saved me.” She took a deep shuddering breath. 

“What happened?” Quentin prodded, looking just as shattered.

Katya took a deep breath, assaulted by the memories. She had been shaky just being back on the Amazo, the walls preventing her from doing anything, kryptonite lacing the paint. She had raced toward Sara and Oliver, wishing she could be more than human fast, just a few moments too late -- and had she hesitated or hadn’t she? She didn’t trust her own memory. “She was swept away, on one of our attempts to escape.” She managed, swallowing hard, “She kept me from falling apart.” Even when all Katya wanted to do was die, for good and for ill. “I’m sorry it’s me and not her who is here.”

Quentin stood, leaving the house. “So am I.”

* * *

The rest of the day was distinctly chilly, and not outdoors. Oliver was angry and they both knew it. He threw himself into his research of The List, starting with the scumbag Laurel was looking for, while Katya returned to the embassy to try and figure out her visa. She had arrived on a medical one, and now that she had left the hospital, eyes were on her. 

Oliver didn’t ask what issues she had left behind when she had shown up at the mansion, and part of him felt guilt at that, especially when Raisa reminded him that a handful of people still had faith in him.

Of course, then his mother got him a  _ bodyguard. _ He was easy enough to slip the first time, and Oliver began his work on the Foundry.

Katya arrived a few hours into the renovation. They didn’t speak at first, though her strength was a boon that made everything go faster. In fact, they didn’t speak until she was busy setting up the most expensive computer system he had ever seen. “And where did these come from?”

“I found a good place for vareniki. I had lunch.” Katya said, shortly.

Despite himself, the corners of Oliver’s mouth turned up at that. He sighed, finding it easier to talk to her back as she assembled, than her face. “Why did you do that? Sara didn’t want him to know.”

“Because, not knowing is torture.” Katya said simply. “Before Ivanov and the Amazo, they used to come in with stories of Kal’s defeats and close calls, and all I could do was imagine the most horrible things. He doesn’t deserve that pain.”

Oliver felt the old irritation and rage building in his gut toward Superman again. He had been out there, flying around, while Katya was a guinea pig. They had been only miles apart on one of his missions to Kasnia, but had he ever looked? When she called out for him, how could he not hear? Katya loved him still, but she was afraid and he knew it, that the perfect baby cousin she had built up in her mind would hate her. 

Oliver, despite still not being pleased, shook his head, and said finally. “What’s done is done.  По́сле дра́ки кулака́ми не ма́шут.”


	5. Chapter 4: Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Katya have a heart-to-heart, Moira schemes, and Clark arrives.

Katya leaned against the wall as Oliver worked on one of the computers, little book out. “So, where are we starting?”

“Adam Hunt.” Oliver replied, pulling up several articles. “CEO of Hunt Multinational. He’s swindled hundreds of the most vulnerable citizens out of their pensions.” He paused, unsure. “Laurel has an active investigation against him. If we can get a confession, we can put him away the legal way.” 

“Why are you nervous?” Katya asked, tilting her head. “It’s seems a good target to start with.” 

Oliver’s lips quirked up into a smile. “I didn’t want you think that, well, Laurel…”

Katya, shook her head. “No,  Olezhka. I know Laurel was and is important to you. If anything, I am grateful to her for getting you through as much of the island as she did. I trust you.”

Oliver, so recently reminded of Sara, and what he had been like before the island, wondered if he deserved that kind of faith. He turned the swivel chair, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I don't deserve you, Katyusha.”

Katya ran her fingers through his hair, much simpler since he was sitting down. “We are both scarred and damaged, Olezhka. Do you know why I call you  солнышко моё?”

“Because you love me.” Oliver repeated, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. 

“No.” Katya said softly. “I do love you, of course, but the reason I call you my sun is more than that. “ She swallowed slightly. “Without kryptonite, the yellow sun is what gives me all my powers. When we escaped the Amazo and were stuck on that island, and couldn’t figure out how to get the kryptonite cuff off...your strength, your convictions, refusing to let anyone behind, even when it could help you.. It made me better.  _ You _ make me a stronger person, Oliver Queen. When I am uncertain, scared, or nervous, it’s  _ you _ I look to, and just having you there heals a little more of...everything.”

Oliver didn’t reply in words. He took out all the mixed up feelings her words caused in him out on her mouth in a passionate kiss. 

When it ended, she beamed at him. “When you go after Hunt, I’ll go for a flyby. Any attention you might raise, will be less with a new Kryptonian flying around.”

If they kissed again, it was their secret lair, so no-one needed to know.

* * *

Moira Queen had not been in business as long as she had without picking up some instincts about people. Malcolm Merlyn was a perfect example of charming and dangerous. Something about the girl Oliver brought home reminded her of Malcolm. There was steel under the blonde curls and smiles, and she wanted it away from her son. Darkness had taken so much from him already: Robert, five years of his life, and god knew what else on that island. She wasn’t going to let a pretty face drag him further down. She had done it before, after all. She already had a lawyer working to sabotage the extension of her visa, but the Russians apparently weren’t playing ball. So that meant she had to take another route to make sure. “Oliver, can I speak to you for a moment?” She asked, as Oliver walked by the doorway of the living room. 

“Sure, Mom.” Oliver replied, turning and walking over to take a seat by her. 

“Thank you, darling.” Moira replied. “I was just wondering how long your friend would be staying with us? I know she’s having some difficulties with immigration. So, perhaps only a few days more? Just so that everyone is aware.”

Oliver looked shocked, and his response was slow. “Mom…” He dragged out the word. “Katya’s not going anywhere. I’m heading over to the embassy today to help with the issues.”

“Well, really, Oliver, what do you expect? I understand that you’ve both been through a lot together, but it’s time for the both of you to move on with your lives.”

“We are.” Oliver replied, swallowing. “We’re being interviewed to have a fiancé visa approved.” 

“Oliver!” Moira gasped, horrified that her chances to get the woman’s clutches out of her son were severely diminished. “You  _ can’t _ be serious! We hardly know this woman. I’m sure that you had to work closely together on the island in order to survive, but that is no reason to throw away a promising future on….”

“Mom, as far as Katya and I are concerned, we’ve been married for over a year.” Oliver interrupted. “We’re doing this now to make it legal. If you’re that uncomfortable, we can start looking for an apartment.”

“There’s no need for that.” Moira said faintly, trying to regain control of the situation. “And I understand that while you were away, marrying her made sense, but you’re both back in the real world now. Don’t you think you both deserve some time to find out what that means and not rush into things?”

Oliver stood, his expression closed off in a way that almost frightened Moira. “I’ll call the realtor in the car. Have a good day.”

* * *

Katya needed a break, so she spent the two hours she had to go for a fly. There was something so cathartic about flying, something about the catch in her stomach, the moment of anticipation right before you fall, only you never do. Of course, in the flying, she took it upon herself to stop a bank robbery. Just because, why not? It gave her something to get her frustrations out on, after all. And boy, did she have a lot of frustrations. There were quite a lot of irregularities in trying to change one’s visa while still in the country, let alone trying to get a fiancé visa approved to someone who was still technically legally dead. 

Even if they were  _ standing right there _ , by Rao’s light. The ridiculousness of the situation was not helped by the conversation Oliver and Moira had had that morning. She hadn’t  _ meant _ to overhear, but super-hearing often meant she caught unpleasant things without trying, especially when she heard Oliver doing calming breaths.

So maybe she didn’t need to knock all the robbers unconscious, but they would be easier for the police to handle, and they would wake up again. Supergirl saves the day. (Thank you, Detective Lance. It’s not as if she wasn’t old enough to be Superwoman.)

Then she stopped at the cute Russian eatery near the embassy for lunch, and headed back to the hell of paperwork, hoping Oliver was finished his interview. “Yes, sir, Mr. White.” Clark Kent said, pushing his glasses up further on his nose. “I know I should have waited for approval, but I really feel like there’s a story here, and I didn’t want to get scooped anymore than we already were…yes, sir, nothing on the expense account. Yes, sir, my own pocket. Yes sir, Monday.” He hung up his phone, shouldering his carry-on as he left the airport. No matter what Perry White said, he had to investigate this.

He had to know if what the Star City Sentinel was saying was true. Was his missing cousin really here? If not, how did they know to claim that particular relation? He hadn’t known about the second pod until the Fortress. No-one on Earth could possibly know, could they?

So, he had to start at the beginning...what might well be his cousin’s first rescue, long-lost billionaire Oliver Queen and Malcolm Global Group scion Tommy Merlyn.

* * *

”Mr. Queen! Mr. Merlyn!” Oliver stopped and turned around outside of his party. There was something familiar at that voice. His eyes narrowed in on the recorder, and then did a double take on the man’s face. “Yes?” He said, knowing exactly who this reporter was. 

“Clark Kent, Daily Planet. I was wondering if you had a moment to talk about your rescue from the kidnappers with me.” Clark said, giving them a smile. 

“Look man, we’re on our way to the party…” Tommy said. “We told the police everything we know. She said she was Superman’s cousin, and she saved us. She saved a bank earlier today. It was nothing special.”

“If she is Superman’s cousin, like you claim, why would she wait so long to come forward, and why Star City?”

Oliver shrugged, resisting the urge to punch  _ another _ reporter, albeit for better reasons. “Maybe she figured the East Coast was covered. As to why it took her so long, well, maybe her cousin rescued her from a lab or something. I can’t imagine what some people would do if they got their hands on an alien like Superman.” He smiled at the reporter that he’d like to break his teeth in. “Feel free to join the party, Mr. Kent.”

“No, I shouldn’t.” Clark said, swallowing. “Gotta go find those bank tellers if I’m going to get my story done.”

“Too bad.” Oliver commiserated.

* * *

Katya was running fashionably late, as was planned. She had just finished her hair and makeup and was ready to leave the room, when Moira Queen walked up to the open door, and Katya felt her stomach drop. “Mrs. Queen,” she said politely. 

“Miss Karlova.” Moira said, walking into the room. “We need to talk.”

“I’m supposed to be meeting Oliver.” Katya explained. “Perhaps tomorrow?”

“No, I think now is the perfect time.” Moira replied, taking a seat on the bed. “Because you’re not going to meet him.”

Katya resisted the urge to laugh at that. “Of course I am, Mrs. Queen. It’s his welcome home party. Tommy has worked very hard on it.”

“You misunderstand me, Miss Karlova.” Moira said, with purpose. “Here is a check for one million dollars. It will be best for everyone if you just take it and go home.”

Katya’s face hardened. “I find it sad that you value Oliver so low, Mrs. Queen. A million dollars is a drop in the bucket to you.”

Moira’s face turned canny, eyebrows drawing in. “Name your price.”

“You couldn’t afford it, Mrs. Queen.” Katya said flatly. “You could liquidate all of Queen Consolidated’s holdings, auction off every antique, list every property, sell everything you own, and offer it to me on a golden platter, and it  _ still _ wouldn’t be enough to make me leave Oliver. We went through  _ hell _ , Mrs. Queen, and all we had at the end of it was each other. I would rather go back to that island than leave your son. Now, if you’ll excuse me, he’s expecting me.” Katya left the room with a click of heels on hardwood, shoulders back and spine straight in anger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested, a Russian (and Kryptonian) glossary for the fic thus far:  
> Да: Yes  
> Конечно: Of course  
> солнышко моё: My sun (term of endearment.)  
> Очень приятно: Pleased to meet you  
> солнцe: Sun  
> Olezhka : Russian diminutive for Oleg, which Kara/Katya is using for Oliver, due to the similar beginning of the names.  
> Я покажу тебе плохо, котёнок : I'll show you bad, kitten.  
> Vokai...khap....sokao- : Please help me.   
> Zha...vokai. Zha! Zha vokai...sokao- : No...help. No! No please help.   
> Nahn rrip w voi. Nahn rrip w voi. Nahn khahp ukep. Nahn rrip w voi, Kara.: You are safe. You are safe. I am here. You are safe, Kara.   
> Нет, она не хотела, чтобы он знал. : No, she did not want him to know.   
>  По́сле дра́ки кулака́ми не ма́шут.: They don't swing their fists when the fight is over. An idiom meaning "what's done is done."


	6. Chapter 5: The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver's welcome home party.

Oliver laughed as Tommy shoved him up on the makeshift stage. “Everybody, hey!” He called, gesturing as the music changed to Queen. “Man-of-the-hour! Whoo! And ladies, give this man a proper homecoming!”

“Emphasis on proper!” Katya called from the left, followed by a river of laughter. 

“Thank you very much everyone!” Oliver called, taking a proffered shot from Tommy. “I missed tequila! Let’s get this party going!”

* * *

Oliver spotted Thea buying drugs from some lowlife, and why was she even  _ here _ , but before he could truly get off the blocks, listening to Tommy catch him up on pop culture, Katya had swung in and was shepherding Thea toward a corner. He smiled to himself. “Remind me to thank my wife for that, Dig.” He called over his shoulder.

“Yes, sir.” Dig said, with an undertone of good humor.

Across the floor, however, Katya had ulterior motives for the save. “Thea!” She said, happily, but with an edge of frustration. “How do I make your mother like me?” She asked, leading the girl to one of the tables on the perimeter. “She hates me.” 

“Course she hates you.” Thea replied, rolling her eyes and then listing to the side. “Whoa...but no, you like…your this strange girl that came home with Ollie. She got her son back, but now he’s like…all about you. Why? What she say?”

Katya made a face and handed Thea a glass of water. “She wrote me a check for a million dollars to go back to Russia.”

Drunk Thea apparently thought that was hilarious, and started laughing, listing to the side. Katya quickly propped her up, sliding in beside her. “Oh, that’s classic mom!” She chortled. “What did you say?”

“That she could sell everything and it still wouldn’t be enough.” Katya replied, truncating her actual words.

“Oh, she’s gonna  _ hate _ you.” Thea laughed. “She’s used to throwing money at problems until they go away.”

Katya shook her head. “I want us to find peace, before she upsets Oliver more.” She grinned slightly. “But, you and me, shopping tomorrow, how’s that sound?”

“Brilliant if you’re paying.” Thea giggled. 

“Of course.” Katya replied, eyes rolling slightly. “Let me make sure you’re taken care of, before I go.” 

She got her another water, with merely a hint of vodka to fool Thea into drinking it, and then went off to take care of business.

* * *

The drug dealer was doing lucrative business before she stepped in. “You are going to leave now.”

“Lady, do you see the kind of bills I’m turnin’?” The drug dealer laughed. “I ain’t leaving.”

“Let me make this clear.” Katya hissed, pinching a nerve in his wrist just enough to make him whimper. “Unless you and your supplier want a problem with the Russians, you will leave now. You crashed the wrong party.”

“Russians?” The dealer repeated, eyes wide.

“ Да, идиот.” Katya rolled her eyes at him. “Get moving, or you won’t like the consequences.”

The drug dealer swallowed and nodded, heading for the door. Just because he was a moron, Katya picked the wad of bills from his back pocket.

* * *

Oliver turned toward the observatory deck, bumping into the last person he would have expected. “Oh.” He said, startled. “You’re here.”

Laurel winced. “Tommy, he made the point that we have too many years between us to leave things the way we left them. Is there someplace quieter we can go?”

“Yeah.” Oliver replied, turning to lead her to the observatory.

Laurel took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for saying that you should have been the one who died, that was wrong.”

“About Sara,” Laurel choked out, slowly. “There’s something that I’ve been afraid to ask, but I need to know.” 

Oliver winced, suspecting what was coming. “Okay.”

“When she died...did she suffer?” Laurel questioned.

Oliver sighed. “I don’t know.” He admitted. “She was swept out to sea,” Quentin knew already, after all, and Laurel deserved more. “But she was spared most of the island, and while I’m grateful to be standing here, I would not wish that hell on anyone.”

Laurel’s eyes were wet. “I think about her every day.” 

“Me too.” Oliver admitted.

“I guess we still have one thing in common, then.” Laurel managed. I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but…” She paused. “If you need someone to talk to about what happened to you, I’m here.”

Oliver felt the alarm on his phone go off, and used the excuse to check it, to distance himself from the conversation. It wasn’t an easy one. It was officially ten, however, and Adam Hunt had failed to deposit the money. 

“Something wrong?” Laurel asked. 

Oliver felt, more than heard, Katya come up behind him. “I asked somebody to do something. They didn’t do it. I’ve got to take care of this quickly, but Laurel...you always saw the best in me, even when I was a horrible person. I hope that I can prove you right, but all I’ve ever done is hurt you and your family, and I’m sorry.” 

He turned, and looked between the two women. “Don’t do anything stupid, Katya.”

* * *

Katya rolled her eyes as Oliver left her alone with Laurel. “He believes I am going to give you a sort of ‘stay away from my man,’ speech.” Katya explained. “Still slightly self-important.” She chuckled. “You are with Mr. Merlyn, yes?”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Laurel asked, staring at the strange women. “And...no. Tommy and I are just friends.”

“”Really?” Katya asked, raising an eyebrow. “He looks at you as if you were Vasilisa the Beautiful.” She chuckled slightly, at the almost affronted look on the woman’s face. I’m sorry.” Katya replied. “I’m Ekaterina. I was on the island for a few years, not as many as Oliver, but I...wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Laurel repeated, surprised that someone else had survived the island, and maybe hating this woman a little both for her comment about Tommy and for surviving where Sara had not. “I don’t even know you.”

“You don’t have to.” Katya replied. “You got Oliver through a lot of his time on the island, Laurel. He would sit there, by the fire, or wherever we made camp, and pull out that picture of you...and it gave him strength to get through the next breath, the next hour, the next day.” She shook her head. “Even when he was feeling his worst, when we were in pain, or starving, when he knew he didn’t deserve a second chance, even after her didn’t want one, he would look at his picture, and say he had to atone, to you, for all the horrible things he did. While he may not believe it Laurel, and he doesn’t, he is a better person, and you were a large reason as to why. So thank you, because he couldn’t have gotten off the island without you, and I couldn’t, without him.”

Laurel had no idea what to say to that. For a long moment she just stared at Katya, despite herself, a bit of jealousy welling up in her stomach. “And does he look at you like you are the beautiful one?” She asked. 

“No,” Katya said, shaking her head. “You were always his ideal, too perfect, in his mind, for him by half. Olezkha has seen me at my worst. We both know the monsters the other can be, and love each other anyway.” It was then, ruminating on fairy tales, somewhere between Kara Zor-El and Katya Vasiliyevna that she decided what her moniker would be. Supergirl was meant for someone better and purer than her. She would be Flamebird and help purify the city.

* * *

Oliver was in a rush after he had ziplined from Adam Hunt’s building. He knew the cops would be after him, and a quick change was utterly necessary. Still, he got down to the party floor as Detective Lance was interrogating Tommy. 

“Detective, it’s a private party.” Oliver said, straightening his jacket. 

“Yeah, well, there was an incident at Adam Hunt’s building tonight. Do you know anything about that?”

“Who’s Adam Hunt?” Oliver asked, straight-faced.

“He’s a millionaire bottom-feeder and I’m kinda surprised you two aren’t friends.” Lance shot back.

“I’ve been out of town for awhile.” Oliver replied. 

“Yeah, well, he just got attacked by a guy in a hood.” Lance said. 

“A hood?” Oliver repeated. “Sorry detective, the only mysterious person I met wore a mask, not a hood.” He saw Katya come up beside him out of the corner of his eye. Kara’s save had helped him there. And hadn’t forced him to move up his timetable.

Quentin sneered, looking at the self-entitled rich man. “Did you even try to save her?” He demanded. 

“Whoa, hey, Let’s go partner.” Detective Hilton said, hand on Quentin’s chest. 

“Did you even try to save my daughter, or did you just move on to the next blonde?” Quentin demanded. 

“Sara wouldn’t want this.” Detective Hilton said softly. “It’s alright, let’s go.” 

Oliver looked down, and without asking, Katya’s hand entwined with his, even if he didn’t deserve it. Collecting himself, he stepped back on stage, pulling Katya with him. “It’s way too quiet in here! This is a party!”

* * *

Unlike Oliver, who would run everything out of the Foundry, Katya believed in diversification, and while Oliver had been running one realtor around trying to find apartments, Katya had found several places to use as safehouses, and two unaffiliated warehouses. It was in the second of these, that she put the final touches on her work, from a cheap laptop. “And done.” She grinned. “Forty million dollars, back where it belongs.”

Oliver crossed the name off of his list. “Well, no-one ever said crime fighting was profitable.” 

“I don’t know about that.” Katya replied, holding up a wad of bills.

“What’s that from?” Oliver asked, raising an eyebrow at her. 

“Stupid tax from the drug dealer at the party.” Katya replied, tossing it to him. “A little side clean-up never hurt anyone.”

Oliver laughed. “Am I taking you to lunch?”

“Nah, I’m going shopping with your sister.” She replied. “I want to make sure at least  _ someone _ in this town likes me.”

Oliver frowned. “That reminds me, Clark Kent is in town.”

Katya frowned. “Kal.” She said, sighing. “He’ll hate me, you know.”

“If he does, he’s not worth it.” Oliver argued. “But be ready.”

“I will.” Katya answered. “You too.”

“Always.” Oliver replied. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:  
> Да, идиот: Yes, moron.


	7. Chapter 6: Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver is legally resurrected. Thea and Katya go shopping. Oliver surprises Walter and Moira, and Katya and Oliver have lunch and discuss crime.

The next morning, Moira woke to a nightmare. The Russian, far from being gone, was pouring over magazines with Thea, eating breakfast and sipping tea at  _her_  table, and Oliver was, while dressed for his court appearance and the visit to the company, speaking on his phone in Russian and ignoring her. It was like a strange, crooked caricature of the life she wanted for her son.

“This is nice.” Thea said, pointing something out to Ekaterina.

“Mmm, maybe.” Ekaterina answered. “I have a fairly big scar just  _there_ , though, so that cut out might not be a good idea. I do like the silhouette.”

“Katyusha, your father wants to talk to you.” Oliver interrupted, handing her the phone.

Ekaterina lit up, taking the phone from him and began speaking in Russian as well for several minutes, before hanging up and handing it back. “Papa will be meeting us at the courthouse.” She explained. “And then after, Thea and I are going shopping, and possibly to get nails and facials done. He wants to meet up for lunch, however.”

“We can do that.” Oliver agreed. “I’m touring the business today.”

“See if there’s any good openings in astrophysics or earth sciences.” Katya advised him.

“Katya, I wouldn’t know  _good_  if it hit me in the head. I dropped out of colleges, remember?” Oliver reminded her.

“Mmm.” Katya hummed and held up a magazine. “What do you think about the botanical garden? Thea was saying how you two used to spend time there.”

“We could just get married on a beach again.” Oliver teased.

Katya threw a muffin at his head, which he caught with a cheeky grin. “We are  _not_ recreating our first wedding.”

“Why not?” Oliver asked. “I thought it was perfect. You were beautiful.”

Katya snorted. “You must have been even loopier from blood loss than I thought. I couldn’t stand on my own, had part of a harpoon stuck in my side and was covered in grime, you’d not eaten in two days and gotten yourself  _stabbed,_ and while marrying us the reverend was dying of cancer.”

Oliver smiled at her. “But you looked up at me with that big smile that lights up your whole face, when we said I do, you called me солнышко моё for the first time, and kissed me.”

“Awww.” Katya cooed, unable to stop the way her face lit up. “I love you.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “But we’re still doing the whole production this time.”

Oliver groaned. “If anyone can plan a society wedding in ninety days, Katyusha, it’s you.”

“You two are so adorable, I think I’m getting cavities.” Thea snarked, flipping the page of another magazine, though she was looking at Oliver closely, as if looking for damage.

Moira had seen some of the scars, so she wasn’t surprised at the tale. The scene was oddly domestic, and she had to admit to herself that if it was either of the Lance girls, she might not be fighting so hard. However, it wasn’t Laurel or Sara, and her first three attempts to get rid of the interloper had not paid off. Bribery had failed. Something else would have to be done. She couldn’t let Oliver throw his life away on some gold-digging Russian Natasha. Pasting a smile on, she walked into the room, ready to face the day.

* * *

”Just read out a simple prepared statement to the judge, and your death-in-absentia judgement will be voided.” Walter told Oliver, as they were preparing to leave.

Oliver couldn’t help but feel that Walter was trying to take over the ‘dad’ role, and he hadn’t needed one in a long time. “It’s fine, Walter, I’ve been in a courtroom before.”

“Four times by my estimate!” Tommy declared, entering the room. “You know, there was the DUI, the assault on that paparazzi douchebag, stealing that taxi, which was just awesome, by the way, and who could forget peeing on the cop?”

“I wish everyone would.” Moira replied.

“I’d hang, but we’re headed to court.” Oliver told Tommy.

“I know, that's why I'm here. My best friend is getting legally resurrected, I wouldn't miss this for the world.” Tommy explained, almost hurt.

“Right, okay.” Oliver whispered to himself, looking around. “Let’s go then.”

* * *

Oliver hated reporters. The crush outside the courthouse was not unexpected, but he was no longer used to it. He hid a smile when Katya ‘accidentally’ threw an elbow at someone, and it sounded like something broke. Just as he was fighting the tide of a flashback, a gruff voice called. “Hey now, leave off of him.” He started slightly at being pulled, but smiled at the sight, tossing an arm around the gruff Russian man. “Anatoly!”

“Oliver.” Anatoly replied, smacking him on the shoulder. “You thought I would miss this?” He gestured to the side, where Katya was embracing Vasiliy Karlov. “Come, my friend. It is time to live again.”

* * *

The declaration of life was harder than Oliver had expected. He kept reliving parts of it as he spoke, even if the words were sanitized by his mother’s lawyers.

“There was a storm, the boat went down.”  _The cold splash of seawater, soaking his skin._  “I thought I was the only survivor.”  _Not being able to find Sara, screaming her name, Robert holding him back._ “My father didn’t make it.”  _Robert, shooting the other man, holding the gun to his own head, Oliver, unable to stop it as the gun went off._ “I almost died, I... I thought that I had, because I spent so many days on that life raft before I saw the island.”  _The long days, the parched throat, the feeling that Robert had shot himself in vain._ “When I reached it, I knew….I knew I was going to have to live for both of us.”  _Crawling onto that island, coughing, half dead._ “For five years, that thought helped keep me going.”

The lawyer cleared her throat, taking over, quite professionally. “Your Honor, we move to vitiate the death-in-absentia filed after Oliver's disappearance at sea aboard the  _Queen's Gambit_  five years ago. Unfortunately we will not be requesting that the declaration of death filed for the petitioner's father, Robert Queen, be rescinded. The Queen family is only entitled to one miracle, I'm afraid.”

Oliver took a few steadying deep breaths as they left the courthouse. It had been heavier than he anticipated, and unsurprisingly, Katya was by his side, close enough for him to sense and take comfort in, without actively touching his skin, which was already crawling.

“Now, onto the offices” Moira said, firmly. “Everyone is waiting to meet you there.”

“Mom, that was a bit heavier than I anticipated. Can I just have a minute? Please?”

Moira looked ready to protest, but Walter nodded. “Of course, Oliver. Take all the time you need.”

Oliver nodded, taking another deep breath.

“You are strong.” Katya’s voice said in his ear. “You are standing, and you are  _never_  alone. We will erase the names in the book and save this city.”

Oliver nodded once and pasted on a smile, throwing an arm around Katya. “Right. Let’s go.” He smiled at Tommy. “Ready to go to QC with me, Tommy?”

“Of course, bud.” Tommy replied. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Fine.” Oliver replied.

* * *

”I can’t believe your father just handed you a wallet stuffed with cash and cards.” Thea said, thrilled with the mere fact that it had happened. “If Mom thinks you’re a gold digger, that should stop her.” At her feet were several very full shopping bags, eyes closed as she got a mask applied to her face.

“I doubt it will be that simple, Thea.” Katya replied with a sigh. “I don't know why she hates me so much.”

“Ollie.” Thea replied. “Those two were always thick as thieves. I don’t think he hid anything from her. She was never really threatened by Laurel, because Ollie was always cheating on her. You? He brought you right home and moved you in without a heart-to-heart to Mommy Dearest. I think she’s afraid he doesn’t need her any more.”

Katya hummed at that. It sounded right. “Maybe that’s it.” She said, but something in her didn’t believe it.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Thea asked.

“Of course.” Katya replied.She had always wanted a sister, and wanted to be close to Oliver's beloved little sister.

“What happened on the island?” Thea asked.

Just like the night before, there was a long pause, but slowly, Katya answered, but the words were strained, as if pulled from her throat. “ _Lian Yu_  means purgatory.” Katya said slowly. “Very few go there by choice, and those who do, go so they will not be found. I was...kidnapped. Taken onto a ship, and we floated near the island. I wasn’t the only one there. They were...madmen, trying to cure disease, testing things on people. Some of them...just liked to hurt people.” She took a deep breath. “Eventually, I don’t know how, Oliver boarded the ship and some of us escaped onto the island. It was...originally a Chinese prison, used by the Japanese in World War II. It was littered with landmines and traps. It was cold and rainy and you could never stop looking over your shoulder. We eventually lost everyone else.”

Thea was quiet for a moment. “That sounds horrible.” She said softly. “Ollie sometimes looks lost, like today, in court.” She bit her lip, tasting cucumber. “But you brought him out of it. I’m glad he has you.”

“I’m glad he has you too.” Katya answered. “He really missed you too, Speedy.”

Thea groaned. “Oh god, not you too! I just got Tommy to stop.”

Katya laughed.

* * *

“Queen Consolidated's success of late is a result of its targeted diversification. We have been making impressive inroads in cutting-edge fields like bio-tech and clean energy.” Walter was saying, and Oliver attempted to do his best to understand.

“That kind of diversity can be a good thing, as long as we don’t stretch ourselves too thin.” He attempted. It would be so much easier if Katya was here, with her space-age science degrees, would-be-youngest member of the science guild to explain it. “Although it will be a challenge to find where I fit in here.”

“That’s something Walter and I want to discuss with you, Oliver, come sit.” Moira asked, placing a hand on her son’s shoulder.

The last thing Oliver wanted to do was sit when she did that. It felt like a threat, and if there was one thing he could not afford to do in this room, it was to be vulnerable to threats. He couldn’t explain that to his mother, however. “Mom, it makes me nervous when you ask me to sit down.”

Walter recovered first. “The company's about to break ground on a new site for the Applied Sciences division, and we would like to honor your father by dedicating the building in his name.”

“That sounds like a good thing.” Oliver answered, wondering why they were making such a big deal of suggesting this. “I’d like to honor Dad.” Of course, his work in his off hours was meant to do that more than naming a building, but he had no problem with doing both.

“And we'd like to make an announcement at the dedication that you will be taking a leadership position in the company.” Moira finished.

Oliver took a deep breath. “If you want me to take a leadership role, you have to understand what that means.” He said, looking at them both. “I won’t be made some junior executive, shoved in a corner office only brought out to parade before the board. I’m going to want an actual role, with actual weight to it. At least one division under my control, and I’m going to want to shadow several positions to get a grounding as to how the company is functioning now.”

Both Moira and Walter look surprised. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.” Moira said, faintly. “Walter?”

“I can work out a schedule.” Walter said with a smile. “It’s good to see you taking this responsibility seriously, Oliver.”

Oliver tilted his head, accepting the praise. It was strange to him, in concept, to be leading the company with his name on it. Usually, Bratva kept businesses in shell corporations, or in the names of lovers and wives, rare though wives were, to avoid their less pleasing activities coming back on them. While he had plans for a cover in the foundry, this couldn’t be passed off. “Walter, I would also like you to look at Katya’s resume and see about recruiting her, as soon as the visa goes through.” He admitted. “I’m obviously going to be biased, but I don’t want QC losing a scientist of her caliber to Kord or Merlyn.”

“She’s a scientist?” Walter said, raising an eyebrow. He had heard her tell Oliver to look at the jobs at Queen Consolidated, but he had no idea how serious such a comment was.

“Earth sciences, biomechanical engineering, astrophysics, and who knows what else.” Oliver replied, shaking his head indulgently. “She was doing calculus at four.”

“Well,” Walter said with a smile. “That is certainly something I can do. If you’re right, it would be a pity to hand our competition someone like that.”

“And it would be nice to keep the idea of Queen as a family company.” Oliver agreed. “It’ll sell better in the long run, in comparison to companies seen as always out to make another dollar.”

“Indeed.” Walter said, pleasantly surprised. “You’ve given this some thought.”

“I’ve had five years to do nothing but think.” Oliver reminded him, checking his watch. “And I should be heading to lunch. Thank you for this walter.” He shook the man’s hand, and then nodded to his mother. “Mom. I’ll see you both at home.”

* * *

The restaurant Vasiliy Karlov had chosen for lunch was just  _thisside_  of shady. Dark enough to obscure anything being passed, but high class enough that no-one would dare to look too close. He had ordered a feast, and sat behind the wide table almost indolently, like a king...or a very rich member of the Bratva.

Of course, that image was slightly tarnished when Katya was sitting beside him, plate piled high, giant smile on her face.

“Ah, Капюшон, good that you have not lost your sense of punctuality.” Vasiliy said, as Oliver entered, sitting beside Anatoly and across from Katya. “I trust that your morning was successful?”

“Да.” Oliver replied, nodding. “And yours?”

Vasiliy laughed. “The visa should be through by the end of the week. The stalling from the Americans was adorable, but not an issue.”

“Thea and I restocked my wardrobe.” Katya said, updating everyone else. “I do want to go shopping for a dress as well, Отец.”

“Of course, Katenka.” Vasiliy said indulgently. “And how does business look?”

Katya shrugged. “Crime in Starling is uncontrolled. The Italians and the Triads are in their corners, and there is definite room for growth. The cyber-crime division here is…” She shook her head. “Го́пник.” She thought a moment and amended. “и старики.”

Anatoly started laughing, waving a spoon at her. “We mostly are, compared to you, Katya.”

Katya turned a pout on him, for not taking her complaints seriously. “You are not a gopnik, and Papa is not an old man.”

“Ah, I am older than I look.” Vasiliy disputed. “But thank you.”

Before Katya could start sulking, Oliver brought up the idea of turning the main floor of the foundry into a club, concealing their more heroic pursuits underneath, and giving them another revenue stream. Discussions for possible businesses to run out of such a club, and whether it would be appropriate for meetings took up most of lunch.

As it was winding down though, Katya started, perking up like a kitten.

“Bank robbery?” Oliver guessed.

“Sounds like a jewelry store.” Katya answered.

“Go save the day.” Oliver encouraged. “Have fun.”

Katya grinned, kissed her father’s cheek, and then Anatoly’s, before ducking out and, from the sound of it, taking off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian Glossary:  
> солнышко моё -- My sun  
> Капюшон -- Hood  
> Да -- Yes  
> Отец -- Father   
> Го́пник и старики -- Gopniks (lower class , uneducated young men) and old men.


	8. Chapter 7: Shots Fired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara and Kal meet, and Flamebird runs into some trouble.

There was something cleansing about being able to be a hero, Kara found. The two men who were holding up the jewelry store had all the earmarks of people who had planned out a good heist. A small portion of her felt a little bad to be ruining it, but she could at least respect the planning. 

“You set off the sensors.” She informed one, as he was carefully cleaning out a case full of diamonds. “Good try. Drop the bag.”

The man turned and unloaded half his clip into her chest. 

“I tried to be polite.” She informed him with a frown, using her heat vision to heat the weapon in his hand, until he dropped it. 

He dropped it and rushed at her, as his buddy tried to escape out the back, bag of jewels in hand. Kara dodged the rush, knocking the man unconscious with a blow, before heading toward the back room after the man. 

The owner had apparently run to hide in the back, because as she got back there, he had the owner by the throat, and the phone the man had obviously been trying to call for help on was lying on the floor, smashed. 

The second thief was grinning at her, gun to the man’s head. “I know you supers.” He said, smiling widely. “You’re going to let me go, because I can fire a round into this innocent man’s skull if you take another step.”

Kara snorted at that. “I am?” She asked, tilting her head at him. “Why would I do that?”

“The thief froze for a minute. “To save his life.”

Kara just stared at him, wide-eyed behind her mask for a moment. “Yes, but then you could hurt others. It doesn’t seem very wise.” She let out a concentrated burst of heat vision, pegging him with both rays in the wrist, and causing the thief to let out a howl and drop the weapon, the owner,  and the bag, cradling his hand to his chest. 

“You bitch!” He shouted. “You burned me!”

“Kara?” A voice said behind her, and Kara actually had to freeze for a moment. 

“One second, Kal.” She replied, rushing up and flicking the man in the head, knocking him out with a quick but non-lethal application of force. She then turned to the owner. “The police are coming.It’s going to be okay, but you should up your security.”

“Thank you, Supergirl!” The owner said, gratefully. “You saved my life.”

Kara winced. “I’m called Flamebird, actually.” She said, offering him a smile. She heard the door in front open, and the call of Quentin Lance’s voice. “The police are here, I have to go. Be safe.”

She flew out the back door, quite literally, landing on a roof nearby, and turning to see... _ him. _ She had seen pictures, of course, but seeing him close up...that was harder. She gave him a shaky smile. “You have Aunt Lara’s eyes.” She murmured, and then her composure broke and she had to fight back her sadness. “I’m sorry. I was supposed to raise you, Kal. I promised your parents and mine and I failed them. I failed you.”

“Kara…” Superman said, feeling a strange combination of emotions in his chest. He had heard the rumor, of course, it was why he had come to Star City, but to hear that -- something someone else had no way of knowing, to be  _ recognized _ , it was something he both wanted and didn’t at the same time. “Don’t apologize. I had a good life. I looked for you, when I found out you were sent with me...I didn’t have any luck.”

Kara didn’t know how to respond at first, and so, chose to ignore the second part of his statement. “They never experimented on you, then?”

Superman looked shocked by the question. “No! Of course not. Humans are a good species, Kara.”

Kara laughed at that. “They are a species Kal, same as any other. There are good and bad. I am glad you only found the good.”

Superman shook his head. “That back there, Kara, you mutilated that man. You killed those kidnappers...you can’t do that.”

“I did, so obviously I  _ can.” _ Kara said, rather pedantically. “And I didn’t  _ mutilate _ him. It was only a small burn. He’ll be fine.” She waved it away. “Three weeks and he’ll be learning new tricks to thieve better in jail.”

“Kara,” Kal said slowly. “Normal humans aren’t like us. They aren’t a threat to us. They can’t defend against our powers. You can’t just  _ do _ that.”

Kara’s voice went a little chill. “You’d be surprised what some normal humans can do to us, Kal.” She managed, fighting the edge of a flashback. “But let’s not talk about this, cousin. I want to know all about you.” She reached into a pocket, and pulled out a small, clear box, with an earpiece inside. “Here, use this while you’re in Star City. I’ll talk to my husband a little later, and contact you tonight. We can meet up more casually. I want to hear about you, Kal, about your life.”

“I’d like that.” Kal admitted. “And I want to know more about Krypton -- but we need to revisit this, Kara.”

“Later.” Kara promised, putting off the confrontation she knew was to come. She needed to clear her head first. “I promise.”

* * *

Oliver Queen wanted to punch Superman in the face. This was not a new feeling, nor was he ignorant of the fact that he would likely break his hand on the man’s face if he tried. That didn’t mean the urge wasn’t there. Katya had rushed out of lunch with food still on the table, all eager to be a hero, only to practically slither back into the foundry later, announce that sometime that evening they were ‘going to meet Kal,’ and curled up in the corner, with a carton of ice cream like it was completely normal behavior. It wasn’t. 

“What happened?” He asked, quitting his work on new arrowheads to come sit beside her and take up a spoon.

“Heist at a jewelry store. No big deal.” The words were light, but clipped, with a slightly formal elocution that only came out under stress. Katya dug her spoon harder into the ice cream. “Did you know  _ normal _ humans aren’t a threat to Kryptonians and can’t defend against our powers?”

Oliver sucked in a breath. “I’m gonna punch him.” He decided. “Anatoly helped me install red lamps at three of our bases. I’m going to flip them on and punch him in the face.”

“No punching my baby cousin.” Katya disagreed, albeit morosely. “He doesn’t know any better. I promised to protect him and didn’t, but at least he was protected.”

Oliver sighed. “Look, we’ll meet him at the walk-up. Go out and fly for a few hours, maybe punch some muggers. Then we’ll deal with Superman.” 

Katya gave him a hug. “What about the next name?”

“Afterward.” Oliver said with a shrug. “We have time, Katyusha.” He leaned in and kissed her brow. “I want you relaxed for this.”

Katya nodded, and a quick call on the gifted communicator and a super speed change later, Flamebird was off. 

Oliver headed to the salmon ladder, ready to get his own frustrations out by training, beating his body and mind into submission. It was his usual method, and as usual, it worked. Only muffled sounds of breathing and a scuffle or two crossed the comm other than the sound of air rushing by, until it didn’t.

The sharp pained hiss in his ear caught his attention, especially as Kara’s breathing sped up and was followed by a groan.

“Kara?” He demanded, already halfway to his bow. 

“I’ve been shot.” Was the breathless answer that crackled over the frequency. “At least two rounds. I’m going down, but as far from the agents who shot me as I can get.”

“I’m already tracking your position.” Oliver replied, pulling on his hood. “Fight it as long as you can. I’m on my way.” 

The panic in her reply, softer though it was, told him plenty. “Don’t let them take me again, kill me if you have to but don’t let them…”

“Kara?” Oliver shouted, on his bike. “Kara, talk to me.” His phone was leading him as he cut the quickest route. “Kara!”

“I have her.” Was the response he got, and not from the voice he wanted, but Kal-El had just saved himself a beating. “Where do I take her?”

“Where we were planning on meeting later.” Oliver said, executing a quick turn. “Land on the roof and down the stairs.”

* * *

Flying was cathartic. It was one of the ways Kara let go, where she let the adrenaline and joy of being alive sweep her up. It cleared all the bad away, at least for awhile. She heard sirens, and sped off in that direction, already having foiled an assault and a purse-snatching in the Glades, when she heard the  _ pop _ . If she hadn’t been heading toward sirens, she might have been more careful, until she felt the bullet rip into her skin. 

Letting out a hiss of pain, she immediately turned and tried to control her breathing as she headed back. She managed to vaguely answer Oliver, but if she was honest, she didn’t even remember what she was saying. The only thing she could focus on was getting somewhere safe as soon as possible. The burning cold fire in her veins, like knives cutting her up was sapping her strength. All she could think was of the Amazo, of ARGUS, of everything she feared come again. 

Just before she lost consciousness, though, someone had a hold on her. She looked up into bright blue eyes and smiled, reaching out to touch Kal’s face before everything went dark.

* * *

Oliver had the red lamps on and the first aid kit out before Superman even opened the door. “On the table, quick!” He barked, ignoring everything else. The chic modern brushed steel dining table had been purchased for this hideout for this very purpose, though with his track record, Oliver rather thought he would be the one christening it. 

Superman did as he was told. “I got her as she was falling. I didn’t see anyone with a gun.”

“Anyone shooting with kryptonite bullets would know how not to be seen.” Oliver ground out, peeling Kara out of the top half of her suit. “The question is whether they're government or rogue.” He turned her carefully. “Two entries, no exits.” He reported. “Was there any liquid on her skin?”

“Not that I saw.” Superman replied. “Why would you think the government would do this?”

Oliver let out a short, bitter laugh as he broke the forceps out of the autoclave bag in the first aid kit. “Because they’ve done it before.” It was a simple, if cynical reply. He probed the wound, and managed to get hold of a piece of bullet. “Grab a bowl, Superman.” He advised. 

Using the baffled man of steel as a nurse, Oliver removed the glowing green bullet. 

“It’s kryptonite.” Superman said, disbelieving and looking pale. “I mean, it would have to be, but…Lex is in jail.”

“Lex Luthor is not the only one who knows about kryptonite.” Oliver said, flatly. “In some ways we were lucky. Depending on how much, liquid kryptonite could kill her -- but, I can’t turn the red lights off until I know whether any broke off of the bullet in the wound that I can’t see.” He put the bullet and the one fragment he found in the bowl being held by the Super. 

One bullet down, he peeled away more of the uniform, to get to the other bullet wound, in the side. “Fuck, this drove through scar tissue. It’s going to take longer to heal. She’s going to hate that it’ll be raised.”

“How…?” Superman managed. “How did she get all these scars?” Clark could hardly believe what was before his eyes. They were Kryptonian. All but invulnerable on this planet. He had battled dozens, maybe hundreds of enemies without a single scar. His cousin was littered with them. Deep twisting ones, pale lines, burn scars with puckered skin. 

“People.” Oliver replied, making a face as he moved the forceps again, trying to stay detached, but finding it very difficult. “Those people you say aren’t a threat. She spent years as a science experiment while you were off saving everyone else.” He grunted slightly. “Damn it! This one shattered. Get me the the thinner forceps from the bag.”

Oliver waited, but when nothing happened, he looked up at the shocked super and grumbled, going for the thinner forceps himself. He hated to dig, but sometimes it was necessary. He held his breath, removing the shattered green bullet, piece by piece. When there were only two visible pieces left, Kara woke up --  _ screaming _ . 

“Kara!” Oliver said quickly, as she woke, twisting and ignoring the growing rage in his stomach. “It’s me, you’re safe. You’ve been shot. You’re safe.” He pressed one hand to her shoulder, trying to get her to relax, so she didn’t lose any more blood. “I have to get this bullet out.”

It took a few seconds for her to be lucid, blinking multiple times, before she recognized him, and nodded. “Do it.”

Clark, already shaky from being so close to the kryptonite, went even paler as Kara bit into a piece of her costume to muffle the scream. He found himself sitting on a long steel island, and stared in disbelief as the strange man in the green hood retrieved the pieces of the bullet, while crooning in Kryptonian to her. This was so foreign to him, it felt as if he had stepped into another world.


	9. Chapter 8: Hard Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout, and Kara tells her story...when she wakes up. Also, she full names Superman.

Katya let out a hoarse gasp and a litany of Kryptonian words Jor-El would not have included in his dictionary for his son as Oliver finished temporarily dressing the wounds. Her vision was swimming, and she leaned her forehead on his shoulder. "That didn't take long." She said sardonically.

"We knew you coming out was a risk." Oliver answered, something grinding in his voice. "It's not ARGUS. They know your tolerances too well, and it would have been liquid." He pushed a lock of hair of hair off of her forehead. "We'll figure it out, Дорогая." He sighed. "I'm going to go get the kryptonite to Vasiliy, see if he and Anatoly can track it, and burn the burnables. Keep the red lights on until we're sure it's all out, and clean up as best you can. No restrictive clothes, and fast food menus are in the end table by the door."

Katya gave him an wan indulgent smile, and a smart-assed little gesture. "Yes, Doctor." She teased.

The corners of Oliver's lips turned up, but it was as much of a smile as he'd show in front of Kal-El. Speaking of the annoying Kryptonian. "You." He said, looking at the man. "You are a guest, Kal-El. You got to her in time, and for that reason, I won't lay you out flat for upsetting her in the first place, but try not to stick your foot in your mouth again, or I'll put an arrow up your self-righteous ass. Are we clear?"

"Clear." Superman said, swallowing hard.

Katya tilted her head at him. "It's probably strange that I find you threatening people endearing, солнышко моё, but no beating up my baby cousin."

"Have you met the man you call your brother, ?" Oliver asked, fighting the urge to smile. "And if we humans are so harmless, he won't worry anyway." The acid had crawled back into his voice, making that last statement a threat.

"Fair point." Katya replied, waving as he left.

She waited for a moment after the door closed, before sliding off of the table with a wince. Without looking at Superman, she headed to the bedroom of the apartment. She somehow managed to peel out of the rest of the costume, and tossed the mask on the bed, before finding the loosest dress she could in her wardrobe and sliding it on. Returning to the kitchen, albeit favoring her side and wincing most of the way, she reached for a cloth to clean up the table. "Thank you, Kal." She said softly. It rankled her that she had been sent to protect him, and yet it seemed like she was always the one who needed saved.

"Here, let me help with that." Kal-El said, pulling another cleaning cloth from the tub by the sink and trying not to focus on the fact that he was cleaning up Kryptonian blood.

Normally, Katya wouldn't have let him, paranoid as she was about her blood, but she threw her cloth in the fireplace, and headed for the menus. "Pizza, Chinese, or Mexican?"

Clark still felt queasy, but he knew from experience food was necessary to heal. "Pizza's good."

Katya nodded and ordered four large pizzas and two two liters of cola, before flopping on the couch with a wince. "So, tell me about your life, Kal. I want to hear everything."

Clark really wanted to ask questions more than he wanted to talk about his utterly normal life, but seeing Kara so vulnerable tonight had made him more sympathetic to her than he thought was possible, especially after he saw her burn that thief, and after he had heard about the dead kidnappers. The scars and her companion's short answers told a hazy story, but it was not a pleasant one. So, instead he told stories. All the little stories that made Lois call him Smallville even now, happy stories of Ma and Pa and Kansas. He had just reached the awkward teenage years and the first emergence of his powers, when the intercom buzzed.

"I'll get it." he said, almost carelessly, cutting off a story about saving Lana.

"You will not!" Katya's reply was whip fast and equally sharp. "You will go into the bathroom and hide!"

"You're injured! It's just some pizzas!" Clark argued.

"I was  _shot_ ," Katya hissed quietly. "By  _Kryptonite_ , days after first publicly appearing in National City, and you want to  _answer the door as Superman?_ " She stood, and if he wasn't her baby cousin she would have called him stupid in multiple languages. "Kal-El, son of Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van, I order you to conceal yourself!"

Clark wanted to argue that they weren't on Krypton, but he looked at her pale face and nodded, expression mulish as he hid in the bathroom, listening to her pay the delivery boy and close the door. There was the sounds of cupboards opening, before she called him back out. He emerged from the bathroom, arms crossed over his chest. "I think it's time you told your story."

* * *

Katya knew what he wanted to hear, but she wasn't ready yet. Instead, she opened the pizza box, handed him a plate and sat down. She began as he had, weaving stories of Krypton together for him. Tales of how she would feel so grown up, following her father into his lab, or preparing for festivals with Aunt Lara. She talked about the gleaming spires of Argo City, about how excited she was when the council approved his birth, because he would have been the closest thing she had to a sibling. She told him about being prepared to be the youngest member of the Science Guild, but how she secretly sometimes dreamed of being a soldier like her beloved Aunt Astra. She was telling him about their beacon when Oliver returned home, and she silently shifted over on the couch, allowing him to sit, and then cuddling tight into his frame without stopping the stories.

Finally, feeling safe and cocooned, her voice cracked. "Then, one night, Mother woke me out of sleep, dragging me to the pod launch bay. She told me Krypton was dying, that you were gone, sent to Earth. She told me it was my responsibility to find you and raise you, that on Earth with its' yellow sun, I would be strong. Then I was put in the pod, and launched as the last tremors started."

She swallowed hard, curling into Oliver more. "You has been launched only minutes before me, but it was enough delay that my pod was caught in the shockwave as I watched our world die. But it messed with the navigation and I fell into the Phantom Zone."

"The Phantom Zone?" Kal-El repeated, horrified.

"For two decades and some odd years." Katya admitted. "That's why you look older than me. I was in a place where you cannot age." She blew out a breath. "Then, somehow, my pod was knocked loose, and I landed on Earth."

"Where?" Kal-El pressed. "I looked for you."

"Siberia." She answered, blandly. "You had already become Superman and made international news. You terrified the Russian government. You were a weapon they had no idea how to defeat, and every time you appeared, you got a little better and a little stronger." She tented her fingers. "You have no idea how other countries see you, Kal. Most worry that the president will order you to destroy them."

"I would never!" Clark replied hotly. "I work for justice!"

"Really?" Kara asked cynically. "What if they had snipers on your Earth parents? On Lana? On Lois? What if General Lane ordered you to kill a dictator to establish a democracy, preventing a war where innocent people would die?" She watched his face as it went slack. "Exactly."

"I never considered that, but I understand how politicians work." Clark admitted. "Fear is a thing some embrace."

"Indeed." Katya agreed. "And then I fell onto their snow. I was a gift to them. A thing they could study and test. They could understand you better by finding my limits...over and over again, and seeing if I could exceed them."

"Torture." Oliver said, more simply.

"At first." Katya admitted. "Eventually they began to train me. To turn me into their weapon, like they saw you as the Americans' weapon." She drummed her fingers on Oliver's thigh. "Eventually, another experiment, an attempt to make an enhanced human,  managed to escape. He went to a trusted ally, and they broke me out, destroyed the lab. I had a family with them, a father and brother." She swallowed hard. "I thought it was over, and I got....complacent." She tripped over the words."Someone who knew about me kidnapped me, took me somewhere else, somewhere more remote. Somewhere he thought no one would save me. I met him there." She bumped Oliver with her shoulder. "And he and my brother rescued me again."

"Oliver Queen." Clark said, nodding, and looking proud of himself as Oliver lowered the hood. "You were on his island."

"Sort of. I was on a ship." Katya answered. "He and my brother boarded it from the island."

"And now you're here." Clark nodded. "Together?"

Oliver nodded, and Katya smiled. "Well, skipping over much, but yes."

Clark's initial reaction was to say that he was glad to see her, but she was in America now, and she had to realize that things were different, but for once, he didn't. He had to think about things. If it was so different, why had she been shot? "I'm staying until Monday. Can I see you again? Without the costume and the shooting?"

"I'd like that." Kara replied. "You can be Clark, and I'll be Katya."

"I'd like that." Clark admitted, smiling. "Can I call you?"

Kara tapped her ear. "I'll always hear you when you're in the city, Kal."

"Right." He said, abashed. "I'm usually the one who says that."

Katya laughed despite herself, wincing as she did. "You're not alone anymore, Kal."

Oliver watched as Superman left the apartment, and then turned to Katya. "That was quick. I anticipated you demanding he stay here, instead of returning to a hotel room, where he could be at risk...or at least demand that he stay for a few more hours."

Katya smiled wanly. "There's still a piece in my side." She admitted. "Kal's family...I love him...but I don't know him enough to trust him. I didn't want him to see me as weak."

Oliver sighed. "I'll get the kit back out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Дорогая -- Darling/expensive (Yes, I know, it may not sound flattering, but it is)
> 
> солнышко моё -- My sun


	10. Aftercare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing with Honor Thy Father

 

_ The prod was shoved into her side again, and she skittered from the cot that served as her bed, heading for the open door. She considered escape again, but the first soldier was joined by two more, and the evil green cuffs on her wrists meant that she could do nothing.  _

_ For science, they always claimed.  _

_ This wasn’t the science she knew. Krypton had no science like this, but Krypton was dead. Part of her wished that she had died with it. In the few earth months since she had been here, she had wished it more and more often. _

_ The room they moved her into was an operating theatre that had been turned into a kind of cruel arena. Rough hands removed the burning bracelets from her wrists. Eyes wide, she looked at the burly, bearded man in the center. He...looked like he was almost more robot than man.  _

_ “ _ _ Она ребенок!” The cyborg said angrily.  _

_ “Она враг.” The soldier replied.  _

_ Kara’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “Нет! Не враг. Меня зовут Кара.” She spoke quickly, her mouth tripping over the strange words. She wasn’t an enemy! She wasn’t a  _ threat _. _

_ The cyborg growled at the soldier. “Я не делаю больно маленьким девочкам.” _

_ “Зверь будет делать как приказано.” The soldier said deadpan, signalling someone in the arena. As he did, the cyborg stopped, making a strange, tortured guttural noise.  _

_ “бой” _

* * *

Oliver woke to a slap to the face, and it took him less than a second to be out of sleep and aware of the situation. He rolled and dodged slightly, before gently pinning Katya. He had expected this, too much kryptonite exposure always triggered flashbacks. “Katyusha.” He crooned, “wake up. It’s only a memory. I’ve got you.” It took a few tries, but eventually she woke with a gasp.

“Hey beautiful.” He said, not releasing his grip or the slightly awkward position. “You back with me?”

“ Да.” Katya whispered, before swallowing hard. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Oliver shifted slightly so that instead of pinning her, he was cuddling her. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing for him, but trust led to stranger situations than that. “You wanna tell me where you were?”

Katya pressed her face into his shoulder. “The first time I met Anatoly. When they made us fight. How he refused because I was just a little girl. Cattle prods, kryptonite bracelets, and electric shocks. The cyborg spy versus the alien. All for the good of Mother Russia.”

“They dead?” Oliver asked.

“Very.” Katya answered.

“Good.” He replied warmly, kissing her shoulder as she curled closer into him. “Go back to sleep, I’ve got you.”

“Love you too.” Katya murmured into his shoulder before falling quiet.

* * *

Walter was impressed with his stepson despite himself. If he was honest, he hadn’t expected to be. He remembered what Oliver had been like before the shipwreck, and he had not held out much hope that five years on an island could possibly prepare him for the real world, but aside from some anger about his mother’s marriage, Oliver had been surprisingly adult. There had been no real hint of the kind of scandal that used to be associated with him. No nights out drinking until he vomited on paparazzi, no urinating on cops. That was why when he stopped by Oliver’s office, he had a moment of supreme disappointment, thinking that Oliver was using his new office for some sort of clandestine assignation, because there was what appeared to be a drunken woman with her face covered on the couch in the office. 

“Look, Miss, I don’t know what Oliver told you, but this is a place of business, not a motel.”

“My apologies, Mr. Steele.” Came the accented voice from underneath the fur coat that appeared to be hiding the light. “I ate some bad fish last night, and Olezhka wanted to keep an eye on me.” She flipped her coat down and gave him a weak smile. “I can go, I just...your wife doesn't like me.”

“Miss Karlova,” Walter said, in obvious relief. “I am sorry, I thought you were...someone else.” He didn’t know a way around the situation where he could apologise without her seeing through it.

“No need, Mr. Steele. I know how Oliver used to be.” Katya said dismissively.

“Is food poisoning why neither of you came home last night?” Walter asked, sympathetically. She really did not look well.

“That and Oli-var being angry at his mother.” Despite herself, a hint of Krypton kicked into her voice, causing the break in Oliver’s name. She went slightly more green, but held herself together. “Since he is…” She paused, as if recalling the words. “‘Throwing away a promising future’...he felt a hotel was better.”

Walter sighed, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. “I’m afraid none of us know how to handle this, Miss Karlova.” He admitted.

“Neither do we.” Katya admitted. “I don’t want to be the reason Oliver loses his mother all over again, but I won’t give him up, either. I will smile and be polite, if she will.” Katya swallowed slightly. “It might be better if I work elsewhere, though.”

Walter took a seat in one of the chairs by the desk. “It could also look as though part of your reasons for being with Oliver are for corporate espionage.” He pointed out. “Tell me, what sort of job are you looking for?” It wasn’t a usual interview style or setting, but Walter would be the first to admit that this was not a normal situation.

* * *

Somers was a nice distraction from the fact that Katya was out having dinner with Clark. It was a good time for him to work off his frustration with the other Kryptonian, and while he knew Katya didn’t mind him piggy-backing off of Laurel’s work, he still felt strangely about involving her in it. Besides which, he wasn’t ready to have her out there, putting the suit back on until he had a better idea of where the kryptonite had come from and who  _ exactly  _ had shot it in the first place. 

Of course, doing his work meant ditching his bodyguard, and as he returned to the mansion, he heard his mother reading Diggle the riot act. 

“With all due respect, ma'am, I never had a client who didn't want my protection.” Diggle was saying.

“I hired you. That makes me the client. Now where do you think my son is going on these chaperone-less excursions?” Moira shot back. 

Oliver could hear the frustration in Dig’s voice as he answered. “Ma’am, I truly do not know.”

Well, Oliver might be an asshole, but he liked Dig. He walked into the room. “And he truly doesn’t.”

Moira turned on him. “Then perhaps you'd like to share with me, you know, where it is you run off to.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow at his mother. “Well, last night, Katya and I got dinner at a new restaurant. She got food poisoning, so I got us a hotel room. Strangely, I didn’t feel comfortable bringing my sick wife  _ home _ when my mother thinks I’m throwing away my future on her.” He gave a little shrug. “Today, I had lunch with some friends, and looked at some properties.”

Moira got a look on her face like she had swallowed a lemon. It was the same face she adopted whenever Oliver referred to Katya as his wife. She took a deep breath, and started again. “I'd rather you promise to take Mr. Diggle with you on your next meetings. It's not safe, you've already been abducted once. There is a maniac out there, hunting the wealthy.”

Oliver, of course, couldn’t tell his mother that  _ he _ was the maniac hunting the wealthy. “I think with Flamebird out there, saving banks, stopping robbers, and saving me besides, I’ll be fine.”

Moira frowned. “We don’t know anything about the alien.” She said, voice cool. “And I’d rather not put my trust in something like that.”

_ ‘Something like that?’ _ It was only his experiences on the Island that kept him from bristling. Apparently his mother was anti-alien on top of disliking Katya for some reason he couldn’t fathom. That didn’t exactly bode well for the future, did it? “That  _ alien _ saved my life.” He said coolly. 

“This isn't a game, Oliver! I lost you once. And I am not going through that again.” Moira said, getting upset. 

“Alright, Dig’s my guy.” Oliver said, with a nod toward the bodyguard. “But Mom, if you’re serious about not wanting to lose me? You’re going to have to get over your issues with Katya. I will choose her every time.”

Moira looked shaken by this statement. “You’d choose her over your family?”

Oliver got serious. “Thea and Walter won’t ask me to choose. I’ll always love you, Mom, but if you do, it will be her.” 

Moira, obviously upset, left the room. 

Oliver turned to look at Diggle. “Sorry to give you so much grief.”

Dig raised an eyebrow. “I served three tours in Afghanistan, Mr. Queen. You don't even come close to my definition of "grief." But I tell you what... You ditch me one more time, no one will have to fire me.”

Oliver licked his lips. “I’m not exactly comfortable being followed, Dig. It puts me on edge, and makes me feel like I’m being hunted. You spend enough time on a desert island where most things want to kill you, and your reaction is to attack. I’m trying to get back to a normal life, but there will be times where I need you to back off, no matter how much my mother pays you.”

Dig, despite himself, felt a small amount of respect for the man. He had seen people like that, and he had seen buddies snap. “You need space, you tell me, and we’ll figure something out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Она ребенок -- She's a child
> 
> Она враг -- She's an enemy
> 
> Нет! Не враг. Меня зовут Кара -- Not! Not an enemy. My name is Kara.
> 
> Я не делаю больно маленьким девочк -- I don't hurt little girls.
> 
> Зверь будет делать как приказано. -- The Beast will do as ordered.
> 
> бой -- Battle


End file.
